


a series of never-ending troubles

by nimrodcracker



Series: and still I haul my heavy feet [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: Cameos by K1 characters, Crew as Family, Dealing With Trauma, Gen, Gratuitous Cussing, Origin Story, Set during KOTOR, Smuggling, Space Battles, THERE IS PLOT, The Exile is Employed, and healing from it, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimrodcracker/pseuds/nimrodcracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after Darth Revan's death aboard his flagship, a crew of Republic smugglers find themselves outrunning a Sith patrol during a <s> smuggling</s> shipping run. The encounter left their ship damaged, so they land for repairs on a nearby planet.</p><p>And so, they find themselves on Taris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pyrrhic Shandy gets pulled out of hyperspace en-route to Ord Mantell...by the Sith.

_3956 BBY // 4 AMW_

"Don't you ever get bored? Like I know piloting has its thrills, but don't tell me that it's always fascinating. There's only so much stars I can take before I need to walk on solid ground."

Ryder stopped tapping her pen on the dashboard. "There's always something new to do everyday," she answered, looking up from the screen. "Don't know what you're getting at."

For the fifth time in an hour, she was double-checking their current hyperspace route. Seeing the same numbers scroll down on the navigation screen beside her was supposed to be reassuring, but the coiling in her gut tightened as the minutes passed.

With his seat reclined at an angle, Vox looked like he had no care in the world. "Aw, c'mon," he groaned, folding his hands behind his head. "Giles always cooks up new things on the stove, Mhaila rigs up working droids from scrap and Maxxus is almost always doing his...business things. But us? We hardly deviate from the flight plan."

He glanced askance at the blinking screen and shrugged. " _Literally_."

Seeing that he wasn't about to comment further, she resumed tapping her pen. The numbers were correct, the calculations spot on. There was no reason for her to worry.

Yet here she was, unable to suppress her vague unease.

"Didn't we do just that yesterday?" Ryder pointed out in exasperation. "We plotted a flight plan with multiple jumps, instead of jumping directly to Ord Mantell."

"That doesn't count. It's not too radical a change." He was in one of his petulant moods again, and that meant that he wouldn't stop until someone called him out on his behaviour.

Oh, right. That would be her.

She slammed her pen on the pedestal separating them, sending it flying out of her hands. "Oh, _shut_  it," she groused, noticing how hurriedly Vox had glanced at her in worry. "I'd rather be bored, than-"

The Shandy lurched. Ryder was thrown against the instrument panel, slipping off her seat and onto the floor. Proximity alarms blared in her ears, barely drowning out the string of Mando'a curses yelled out from beside her. Crimson light flashed everywhere; on the dashboard and in the topmost corner of the cockpit, the colour matching the new stains on her fingers.

By the stars, her arms _hurt_  from the impact.

"Oh, for the love of-Ryder, get off your ass and _look at this_ ," Vox hissed.

Gingerly, she clambered out of the hollow between her seat and the console, rubbing the throbbing bruise on her arm.

Vox was perched on the edge of his seat, his back ramrod straight, and his eyes glued to the distance. Shock was evident in his slack-jawed expression, and it was an expression that Ryder mirrored too, once what she saw registered in her mind.

This was it, a reaffirmation that her gut _never_  lied.

Ryder threw her head back and laughed, a hysterical noise that belied her skittering thoughts. "Being bored trumps being pulled out of hyperspace by Sith ships, _anytime_."

He shot her a vexed look. "So _now_  you're making jokes? Your sense of timing is wonderful!"

"Vox! Ryder! I need a status report, _now_!" Maxxus barged into the cockpit, unapologetically smashing the alarm override switch by the cockpit's doors. Mercifully, that silenced the incessant blaring of the sirens.

Ryder peered at the flashing display on the console. "Multiple hostiles: one Centurion-class and two Interdictors," she rattled out, while sliding into her seat. "Snubfighters launching from all three, five squadrons on estimate." A warning beep sounded and the edges of another display flashed. "And we're being targeted by three turbolaser batteries."

There was no mistaking that gray-hulled Interdictor, larger than any other ship in its class. The _Leviathan_  was here in orbit over Vanquo, and the coiling in her gut solidified to stone.

Vox was busy flicking switches on his feet; deactivating autopilot and powering up the sublight engines in a flurry of movement. "Why the frack are they shooting at us? This isn't Sith space. And we're supposed to be small-fry, right? Just another freighter in this galaxy. Unless-"

"We stumbled upon an invasion fleet, and they don't want us to reveal their location," Maxxus whistled. "That Interdictor isn't any random ship. It's the _Leviathan_."

 _And wherever the Leviathan went, Darth Malak followed, along with the wanton destruction he wrought in his path._ Maxxus had omitted that part, but Ryder was certain that all three of them were thinking just that in the brief lull.

As expected, Vox broke the silence with an expletive. " _Haar'chak._  You can fly this tin can by yourself, right?"

Ryder waved away his concern. "I used to fly an Aurek, remember?"

"I'll head to my turret, then." He sidled out of the cockpit in a hurry, his boots pounding a frenzied tempo that reverberated along the hallways.

Holding the Shandy's yoke with a loose grip, Ryder could feel the ship coming to life in her hands. A few more moments, and it would yield to her touch. The ship would then be an extension of herself, and she would make it dance in her hands like the lightsabers she once held.

She felt Maxxus lay an arm on the headrest of her seat. "Ryder, you got this?"

Why was he asking her that again? She'd flown them out of dicier situations than this, and he knew that. "Really. Everything's under control, Maxxus. I'll jump to hyperspace after losing them in the asteroid field."

"Good. Get us out of here quickly." He stayed with her as she steered the Shandy towards the asteroids, leaving when she fired the thrusters.

For a captain whose ship was under fire from a Sith battle group, he was being awfully collected - not that Ryder objected to that. Maxxus was a lynchpin of calm that she hungrily latched on to all these years.

Ryder slipped on her headset with a free hand, her eyes never leaving the pinging radar. Red triangles were speeding towards the Shandy like a pack of rabid mynocks, and she stepped on the thrusters a touch harder. The Shandy chugged in response, but she felt the ship accelerate. Still, the lighter Sith fighters would catch up with them eventually, illegally modified engines or no.

Static fizzled in her ears as the headset configured itself to the ship-wide comm frequency, but the interference receded seconds later. "-sting. Blink One in position and ready to rumble. Have I mentioned how ugly Sith fighters are?"

She sniggered. _Trust Vox to keep it real._

Gripping the yoke, Ryder banked the Shandy to the right, making the manoeuvre as clunky as possible. "Feel free to send your designs to Malak, Blink One. He'd definitely appreciate the gesture."

"Combat sensors are online," a feline voice broke in. "This one apologises for her tardiness."

And here she thought the cat would be too occupied fixing up her latest project to realise they were under attack. "Glad you're up, Mhaila. The turrets would be firing blind otherwise."

"Ryder, why are you nice to everyone but me?"

"Callsigns from now on, please. And Blink One, you're imagining things." On the power readouts, both turrets were charging up their systems lasers. With the thermal diffusion systems online, the Sith fighters were going to be _very_  surprised when the turrets start firing. After all, their sensors would only pick up the engine's high levels of exhaust, rather than the heat being diverted there from the Shandy's various components - namely, the turrets.

Huge clusters of brown rock ballooned into view, deceptively treacherous in its serenity. A grand sight for starry-eyes onlookers, a death trap for spacers - but she wasn't some greenhorn pilot on her maiden flight.

"Sensors here, five seconds to asteroid field. Power diverted to particle shields, capped at 60%."

Already, she could see red triangles vanishing from her radar, but the deflector shields were taking hits from laserfire.

_Hmph. Time to cut the 'harmless freighter' act._

Ryder was poised to disengage the steering lock hidden behind the wheel, but an unlit bulb near the radar caught her attention. Mortified, she flicked the switch for the inertial dampeners beside the navigation pane. When the bulb filled with green light, she felt immensely relieved.

_Can't imagine the mess in the cargo holds had I not activated them in time. Giles would throttle me if I messed up the inventory._

The comm crackled with Maxxus' gravelly tones. "Blink Two here. Two pointies vaped."

Activating the steering controls, Ryder pulled on the yoke, angling the Shandy into a gentle climb. Seconds later, she eased on the thrusters and threw her full weight on the yoke, feeling the g-forces pressing her back into her seat as the ship hurtled down on a straight course to the asteroid field.

Was someone yelling in the common area? The G-Forces were _certainly_  mucking about with her hearing.

"Blink One, three pointies on your starboard side."

Already, Ryder was actively stabilising the ship from time to time - no doubt a result of the Sith fighters exploding all around the Shandy.

A muffled _boom_  echoed over the comm channel. " _Phwoar!_ Thanks for the warning, Sensors."

"Incoming fighters, Blink Two. One full squadron."

A huge grin tugged away at Ryder's lips. This was proving to be _so_ much fun.

"Any ideas, Blink Leader?"

"I'll shake 'em off, Blink Two," Ryder declared, reaching out to adjust the data filtering on her displays. "Blink Leader out." On a hunch, she hung back on the manoeuvres. Something told her that she'd be laughing at something very soon.

"Blink Two to Passenger. Buckle down. _Quickly_."

Suddenly, she realised that it had been Giles shrieking hysterically all the while. "I already did five _centuries_  ago!"

Like a nexu, she pounced on the moment after, putting the Shandy through a series of tight turns as the Sith fighters swarmed all around, feeling ridiculously victorious as she heard the Bothan spew terrible, _terrible_  language that would make the crustiest of spacers blush.

"Sensors to ship, proximity sensors engaged. Entering asteroid field in three..."

"Get ready for theatrics, everyone." It was a chore trying to maintain an even tone, and even more so as Ryder blurted out her next words. "Giles, this one's for you. Blink Leader out."

"Also known as: Blink Leader's about to fly this bucket of bolts like a snubfighter."

" _Bingo_ , Blink One."

Barely a second into the field, Ryder had to yank on the yoke, turning the Shandy hard around an asteroid that had suddenly drifted into view.

"Ray shields down to 30%. Rerouting auxiliary power to shields."

Though extensively retrofitted with illegal mods, the Shandy was still a freighter, not a snubfighter - and the groaning controls emphasised that fact. "Sensors, steering's going to hell. Are we out of the Interdictor field yet?"

"Negative, Blink Leader. We need to get to the other side of the asteroid field."

Seeing no other alternative, Ryder gritted her teeth. It seemed liked she had to overextend herself again, dodging ugly lumps of rock that insisted on flying into the Shandy.

Times like these, she really missed her old Aurek snubfighter.

"That's my eleventh! Blink Two, what's your tally?"

The steering controls rattled in her grip along with the Shandy itself, just as she heard three distinct bursts of laserfire over the comm.

"Sixteen so far, Blink One." Maxxus sounded so _smug._  "Why?"

"Oh, shut up, Captain Guns-Down-Three-Pointies-At-Once. I don't understand how a one-eyed soldier keeps besting me!"

The Sith fighters were generally held at bay by the Shandy's turrets, but some fighters always managed to dodge the lethal crossfire. Two of them were tight on the Shandy's tail, refusing to let up no matter how ridiculous the rolls and twists Ryder put the ship through.

Then, the bulbs beside the radar flashed: the Sith fighters had acquired a target lock on the Shandy. That meant incoming missiles, and most certainly, assured destruction.

She had to do _something._

"Capital ships are not moving in, Blink Leader."

"Copy that, Sensors. We'll jump after the clearing the asteroids."

_Echuta. The hell are you going to do now, Ryder?_

Fresh out of another tight turn round an asteroid, Ryder righted the Shandy with a turn of the yoke. Through the maelstrom of rocks, she spotted a pair of gigantic asteroids in the distance, each as wide as a Hammerhead cruiser. Once she noticed how tightly they hugged to each another, the inklings of a plan came together in her mind.

Wiping her sweaty palms on her pants, she tuned out the nagging fear that whispered doubt in her ears. This time, there was no Force for her to listen to for guidance, but in its absence, she'd come to rely on instincts enhanced by ability, and she knew she _wouldn't_  fail.

"Blink Two, what's our transponder code for today again?"

"The Wango Tango, Blink One. Dynamic-class freighter, ferrying durasteel sheets to Ithor."

Ryder gripped the steering controls harder than she ever did her whole life: rolling, twisting and turning the Shandy around and through countless floating debris in its path to the asteroids on purpose, if only to kriff up the targeting systems of the Sith fighters. Ultimately, she was priming the ship into a favourable entry vector because their lives depended on it.

Some would call her crazy for even considering a move like that, but recklessness was her stim of choice.

"This one thinks they fell for the ruse."

"Definitely. If they knew there's kolto and blaster rifles stashed in the hold for the Republic, then we'd be in the Leviathan's holding cells already."

The Shandy dodged another wayward burst of laserfire with a barrel roll, but the Sith fighters were undeterred. She'd put some distance between the ship and the fighters, and she could've simply sped off like any sane pilot, back into the mass of rocks to shake off the fighters.

But she didn't.

Ryder steered the Shandy into a tight turn to the right, and time seemed to slow to an agonising crawl.

With bated breath, she watched as the opening between the asteroids gradually aligned itself with the windscreen. The perfect opening was what she waited for, and her senses were silent - for now.

"Asteroid fragments are getting too close to my dome, Blink Leader-"

Then, all she saw through the window was black nothingness, the dark brown of puckered space rock framing the path that stretched into the distance.

Her hands twitched.

_Now._

Ryder stomped on the thrusters, and the Shandy _shot_  through the narrow gap separating the two asteroids.

Sneaking a hasty peek at the radar, she saw the pair of red triangles disappear, and she silently _whooped_  with joy. Save the creeping claustrophobia of being tunnelled in by the asteroids, everything seemed to fall into place nicely...until metal screeched in her ears.

"Blast!" Vox cursed, before static filled the comm channel. Alarms were blaring, the cockpit was bathed in crimson - again - and the displays were flashing warnings all over.

But the proximity alarms weren't blinking anymore, and that was consolation enough. They'd safely emerged from the hollow between the asteroids, sans two Sith fighters.

"Blink One! Status report," Maxxus yelled over the frequency, only to be greeted by more static. "Sensors, damage assessment?"

 _Oh, shavit._  Ryder felt her chest constrict. _Painfully._

"Particle shields in the red. The asteroid bumped against our port side. 2 klicks till the edge of the field."

"Blink Leader, _what_  did you just pull?"

Had she finally gone too far with the manoeuver? The unexplainable vice on her heart _refused_  to ease.

"Necessary stunt, Blink Two," she said, surprising herself with her stoicism. "Get dinged by a rock, or be pumped full of proton torpedoes."

Of course, there was no need to tell them that she'd partially knocked out the inertial compensators in the process.

"Number of pointies still chasing us: twenty-seven. Blink Leader, this one needs jump coordinates."

Vox's turret still showed up on the power readouts, but static fizzled over the ship-wide frequency.

Someone was still flying the ship, dodging asteroids with the finesse of an artist - but it didn't seem to compute that that person was her.

"Blink Leader, jump coordinates please."

Her mind had ground to a halt. She saw stars and space rocks and a frackload more of debris, but she also saw grass and bloodied chunks and a heckload more of raindrops, falling like an infernal shroud.

"Blink Leader!"

She'd gotten someone killed again.

"Blink One, are you still there?"

"Broken nose, Blink Two. I gave the interior of this turret dome a new coat of red paint."

The relief Ryder felt was palpable, the vice loosing so swiftly as if it had never been there in the first place.  _Stars_ , she'd never imagined that his voice was what she needed to hear, ever.

"One klick till edge of asteroid field, powering up hyperdrive. Blink Leader, if you do not respond, this one will _personally_  come over and _slap_  it out of you!"

"Sorry about that," Ryder bit out, reaching out for the navigation pane. Flustered, she fumbled with her keypresses, the unwillingness to take her attention off piloting the ship hindering her further.

Still, she managed, much to her relief. "Sensors, jump coordinates transmitted."

" _Much_  appreciated, Blink Leader. Jump coordinates received, punching them in."

"If you sorry shebs thought a broken nose would stop me from peppering you with laserfire, you're wrong!"

And just like that, everything went back to normal - well, as normal as it could be with the Sith hellbent on vaping them.

"Watch your six, Blink One. I missed a pointy."

"Lone pointy vaped, Blink Two. Thanks for the heads-up."

With the Sith fighters kept at bay, Ryder could now make sense of the blinking instrument panels arrayed around her. One section in particular held her attention, the amber text flashing on the screen like a damning judgement. _Had been flashing_ since the Shandy was knocked up by the asteroid, actually.

Coupled with the increasingly sluggish steering, there was no denying their time was running out.

She groaned. "Blink Leader to Sensors, we need to jump now! Controls are burning out!"

Sure, the asteroid field had thinned out considerably thus far, but of what use was a unobstructed exit vector when the hyperdrive was still warming up?

"Passenger to Sensors and Blink Leader. When will this _abominable_  ride end?"

How the hell did Giles manage to get his furry paws on a headset?

"Sensors here. We're out of the gravity well's range, but the hyperdrive is still warming up."

"Blink Two to Passenger. Are the inertial dampeners borked?"

"YES!" Giles shrieked over the comm, and Ryder barely stopped herself from ripping the headset off her ears.

The Shandy careened to port as she momentarily lost control, with something _clanging_  somewhere in the ship just as she steadied it once more. What was taking Mhaila so long to prime the hyperdrive?

"Sensors, what's the status of the jump? My turret's overheating, and I see a second wave of pointies from my dome. Can't take them all out."

"Same thing here. Too bad I can't _talk_  our Sith buddies here out of shooting us up."

_Great, so the Shandy was turning into a sitting mynock in the middle of nowhere, without the means to move or defend itself._

Ryder was shifting in her seat, mumbling Huttese expletives under her breath like a mantra. Did she kark up the hyperdrive too during her mad asteroid dash?

She whacked her head against the headrest of her seat. Oh, they were so _fucked_.

"Blink Leader, stabilize the Shandy for hyperspace," Mhaila cut in, the Cathar's airy voice literally music to Ryder's ears. "Everyone, jumping in three, two, one."

The Shandy lurched, and Ryder was pinned back in her seat. Where the stars used to be mere pinpricks in the vastness of space before, they were now lines that stretched into the distance.

She'd be lying to herself if she said that she'd imagined the collective sigh of relief over the comm frequency.

Ryder loafed in her seat for a while, before disengaging the steering controls with a listless flick of her finger. Curling a finger around the headset, she brought the mic closer to her lips. "Happy now, Vox?" she said, finally allowing herself to close her eyes.

"What did the boy do this time?"

"Moaned about how boring piloting freighters are," Ryder recited, drumming her fingers on her thigh. "Three seconds later, we get pulled out of hyperspace by Sith."

"Didn't this one tell Vox to stop _asking_  for trouble?"

"Hey, don't take potshots at the person with the broken nose!"

Deciding that Vox had been chastised quite enough, Ryder disentangled herself from her seat. The sooner she fixed up his nose, the sooner she could get some shut-eye. "Head down to the medbay, Vox. I'll patch you up."

" _Thanks_. At least someone remembers."

Ryder chucked her headset on the console - the thin, metal frame landing on the dashboard with a clatter. She swept her gaze across the instrument panels a final time, taking in the lack of flashing lights and red text, before she left the cockpit.

When she walked by security room, she stopped in her tracks, the sight within making her smirk.

Mhaila was slumped in silent surrender over the keyboard, the three computer screens surrounding her emanating a soft glow that left the other half of the room in darkness.

Whatever words of praise Ryder had died in her throat, and she continued on her way.

"Remind me to ask the management back on Coruscant to increase our hazard pay."

That was what Giles muttered to her from his wall-seat as she passed him. The pasty-faced Bothan was still clinging tightly to the cross-harness strapped across his body, and it appeared that he wasn't about to let go anytime soon.

Snorting gently, she slowly pried away the headset in his hands, placing the misshapen gadget on the central table. "All part of the fun, Giles. It's thrilling to not know when we die."

Had she sounded wistful when she said that last part? Because she herself had no idea what _that_  meant.

Giles didn't disappoint. "You kids," he jibed, and they laughed over the twittering of electronics.


	2. The Fears Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder patches up Vox, and maybe her own scars too.

_3956 BBY // 4 AMW_

Coaxing Giles out of his seat had taken quite some time, so Ryder wasn't surprised in the least when she couldn't scrape the bloodstains off the floor with her boots.

The drips of blood traced quite a path: the brown circles began at the hatch leading to the Shandy's underbelly, before trailing right into the medbay. The fact that it dripped at all didn't worry her, rather, the largeness of drips did.

She found him in front of the mirror, dabbing at his crooked nose with gauze soaked in blood.

"That's not how you treat a broken nose," she clucked disapprovingly. Before Vox had a chance to react, she filched the stained piece of gauze he held and ushered him to the bed placed flush against the wall. Then, she tossed the filthy thing into the sink, adding on to a pile that threatened to spill out onto the floor. For kark's sake, how much had he used?

But if she was being honest with herself, the mountain of bloodied gauze was a welcome splash of colour in a room that had always felt too sterile for her.

She faced him once more; eyes roving over the crimson smears on his face, and his misshapen nose.

_So close_ , she berated herself.  _I was so close to getting him killed._

From his seat, Vox looked at her expectantly. "That's why you're the doctor on this ship, Chuckles."

_Doctor_ , huh? She was a  _doctor_  with the rudimentary skills of a wartime medic at best. Back then, all she did was shadow the medics who went on their rounds, patching up her soldiers who suffered no worse than blast injuries. She hadn't dared to walk among those who wouldn't survive the turn of the day, and she never would. Because every death was like a vibroshiv to her gut.

"Why bother with doctors if their patients kill themselves first?" Ryder wiped away the lone trickle of blood on his upper lip; lips that turned down in a slight frown at her reply.

Her fingers accidentally brushed against his nose, and Vox inhaled sharply.

_Fractured nose, then. Good thing the bleeding's stopped._  "Sorry," she mumbled, eyes drifting to the splotches of blood marring his cream-coloured shirt.

Noticing her glance, he beamed. "This is my best shirt, y'know? And now it's ruined."

"Hopefully it didn't ruin your binder too," she answered, opening the cooler under the bed. A multitude of coloured packs clamoured for her attention, but she zeroed in on the unassuming gray packet stuffed in a corner. "I don't have any more to lend you."

"Hey! It was only  _once_." Vox narrowed his eyes. "And didn't I replace the one that ripped?"

Ryder grunted, but that was all. Activating the cold pack needed her attention.

Vox was trying to meet her gaze, Ryder knew. Attempting to make her laugh too, what with his exaggerated gestures bordering on foolish.

She pressed the cold pack firmly on the red welt near the bridge of his nose. Sadly, jokes couldn't take away the fact that she almost got him killed.

Soon, Vox would drop the act and get to the point. He never could stand being ignored.

It came when she carefully felt for the bump in his nose. "Your hands are shaking."

Was it that obvious? Ryder gestured for him to hold the pack in place. "Glad to know your eyes still work."

"You didn't respond to Snips over the comm."

Where was the kriffing medical box again? It was on the worktable mere seconds ago.

"Look," Ryder scratched her head, glancing everywhere except for the person sitting in front of her. "If you wanna say something, just do it."  _Though if you didn't, it'd be frackloads better._  Head-on confrontations on anything went out of season after the Mandalorian Wars, and she had no intention of rekindling the trend.

Alas,  _someone_  just had to be tapping her wrist insistently, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You had a flashback just now, didn't you?"

The medbox was still nowhere to be found, and that infuriated her further. "Yes," she answered tersely, hands bunched on her hips.

Ryder was at a loss. Did the medbox sprout legs when she wasn't looking? How the frick was she supposed to dress his fracture without her materials?

Shaking her head, she let out a long-suffering sigh.  _Oh well. Least there's still a sink to clear, while I wait for the medbox to reappear._

She did just that, heading to the sink and picked out the balls with the tips of her fingers, before dumping them into the trash receptacle in the wall.

Because if she stood far enough from him, he would stop pestering her about it, right? It seemed to work well enough for her other problems.

He cleared his throat. "Do you want to talk about it?"

_Wrong._  "No."

"You sure?" he pressed, and she spun to face him.

She finally caught sight of the blasted box, placed innocently on Vox's lap, and she couldn't help but mentally slap herself. "Did I stutter?"

Her words seemed to hit him hard, and his customary smirk melted into a despondent pout. "Just wanted you to know that I'm willing to listen," he shrugged, before fiddling with the contents of the medbox with his free hand. "If you feel like telling me, that is."

As fast as her hackles rose, the anger was squeezed out of her equally quickly. Seeing Vox like that, it felt like she'd just kicked a gizka. In the face. With durasteel-tipped jackboots.

"Fierfek," she hastily bit out, closing the distance between them. "You didn't deserve that."

Meeting her eyes again, he shushed her with a wave. "I know."

He was wearing that silly grin of his again, the one that could and had been melting the hearts of ladies all over the galaxy. Vox sounded so  _sure_ , and with that disarming smile, Ryder was tempted to believe him.

Well, almost _._

She slid the medbox over to an empty space on the bed, barely remembering to grab some sheets of clean gauze. Somehow, the fact that she still had a fracture to immobilise had slipped her mind.

"You don't," she stated simply. She flung the cold pack he held over her shoulder and cushioned the bridge of his nose with layer of gauze.

He couldn't possibly know the source of her anger, could he? No, he definitely couldn't.

"You think so? Okay, I'll bite. You're pissed because the Sith appeared."

With the padding in place, she fumbled around the medbox for an adhesive bandage. After rifling through at least half of the box, she found them hidden under a bottle of antiseptic lotion; which wasn't where it was supposed to be. She made a mental note to reorganise the contents of the box later.

In her peripheral vision, Vox was seriously considering his choice of words.  _Astounding_. "Cause you had to fly through an asteroid field," he tried, but found no answers in her dour expression.

Ryder peeled off the adhesive backing and pasted it across his nose, holding the padding in place. Satisfied that the bandage wasn't about to fall apart, she took a step back to admire her handiwork.

"Cause we yakked too much over the comm?"

Now bereft of reasons to hold back a reply, Ryder pinched the bridge of  _her_  nose. Just when she thought that the incessant beeping of medical instruments in the medbay was annoying...

"Then  _what_?" he ventured, bemusement evident in his tone. "Your monthly thing?"

_What in the blazes?_  She made a face at that.  _Where was the nearest airlock again?_

Ryder hid her head in her hands and moaned. "You don't give up, do you?"

When he didn't reply, she opened an inch-wide gap between her fingers, fearful of what she would see.

True enough, Vox was grinning like a fool. "'Course I know better than to blame that, Chuckles. I get them too. But anything to make you laugh."

She sighed again. Seemed like there was no escaping it, then. But it couldn't hurt to talk to him about it, right? Because in spite of everything, she  _did_  trust him; be it as a friend, or crewmate. The distinction between them was irrelevant.

In those short seconds, her decision was made surprisingly clear.

She pulled out a stool from under the sink, and sat facing him. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, stretching the kinks from her joints like an old woman.

After all that, she finally trusted herself to speak, but her words came out barely louder than a whisper. "I almost got you killed."

Silent seconds passed, each one cranking up the building pressure crushing Ryder's confidence.

She was this close to bolting from the room.

"That's it?" Vox uttered, brows furrowing. All her tension disappeared like it had never existed. "But you didn't have a choice - really, you didn't."

His agitation was obvious; fingers jabbing home his point, the twitch of his eyelids like a nervous tic. "You either had to pull off that absurd stunt of yours, or we'd get bombed to bits by the pointies. I saw the torpedoes being primed from my turret!"

With that volume, Ryder had little doubt that the whole ship heard what he'd just said - well,  _hollered_. "Doesn't change anything," she said evenly. "Almost got you killed."

_Pick up on my verbal cues, will you? I don't think you're that obtuse._

"Hey, I knew the risks when I joined this kriffing shipping firm," he insisted. This time, softly. "We smugglers either make it big or die."

As she'd guessed, Vox didn't get her meaning. She didn't expect him to. That was the worst part about trauma - it was the same battles, but why did their survivors always felt immensely _alone_?

Ryder was working her jaw, gnashing her teeth together with long, repeated strokes. Matching his gaze unnerved her, so she fixed her gaze on the bandage instead. "I just don't like it," she mumbled. "Letting people die under my watch."

"Something from the war?" he gently said, as if he were treading on water. As if his very words could shatter souls.

In that, he was correct.

_Too many died because of me,_  she wanted to say.  _Never again._  But the words caught in her throat. All she managed was a muted nod, and a thin-lipped smile.

"Okay, I get it. Oh no-" he grasped her shoulders as she bade to speak "-no need to say anything if you're not ready."

She shifted her gaze back to his, appreciation welling up within her. "Because whatever happens during the war..."

"Stays in the war." He laughed. "Bingo, Chuckles. Glad to hear it. Just wanted you to remind you that everyone aboard-"

"-is either a victim or a veteran of war." Ryder completed, to Vox's chagrin. "Because Talwain Dispatch was created to employ those displaced by war."

"Someone's been reading up on our company's history, I see."

"Either that, or boredom. You know I hate doing nothing," Ryder explained to her impressed co-pilot, and that marked the end of their conversation.

In the easy silence, the realisation sank in: she'd actually managed to have a civilised discussion about her issues with someone. No ruffled feathers, no angry storming out of the room.  _Progress_ , indeed, and she was grateful.

Apparently she'd been staring at Vox's nose bandage throughout her monologue, and it suddenly hit her as to how ridiculous it looked on his face.

She couldn't help but snort uncontrollably.

"What's so funny?" he frowned, starting to touch his face in worry.

Initially, she'd wanted to pack the medbox if only to stop her from laughing. Problem was, she was doubling over with laughter, barely keeping herself on the stool and off the floor. "Bandage makes you look like a fool."

"I don't need a bandage to know that I'm  _the_  fool of the ship," he declared with mock-seriousness, placing a fist over his heart for emphasis.

Ryder never thought she'd find a Mandalorian who  _wasn't_  a humourless buckethead, but here she was. "Such a clown, you."

"You didn't realise? Blast, maybe I should get that tattooed on my arms."

_He always could make her laugh_ , she thought with a sheepish smile. She'd never seen his good humour deflated by anything in the three years she'd known him, and she envied him for that, knowing that she could never achieve that level of self-assuredness.

Maybe that was why she hung around this bunch of fools as long as she did.

Somewhere, a muffled crash through the ship, followed by a slew of Huttese curses muttered with the unmistakeable grace of an old Bothan.

Both of them shared a look, bemusement in their eyes and lips tugging back in a smile - the simple exchange confirming that both of them knew what had just transpired.

"As much as I  _love_  talking to you, we better get going," Vox lamented, as he got to his feet. "You know, before we get pulled out of hyperspace again?"

He should've known better than to offer his hand to pull her to her feet - being aware of her fiercely independent streak - but he did so anyway. Whether he was being brave or foolish, Ryder didn't know.

Nor did she care, because this time, she grasped it -  _firmly_. "Heh. If that happens, it's your turn in the cockpit. My turn to make things explode."

_That_  would do wonders for her state of mind, and she couldn't wait.


	3. In The Weirdest Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shandy lands on Ord Mantell. Ryder disappears.

3956 BBY // 4 AMW

Sand on his skin. Dust in his eye. The hint of danger, creeping round hidden corners.

Ord Mantell was a sanctuary for mercenaries and pirates, and a sense of homesickness welled up inside him. Much like other Mid and Outer Rim territories, Iridonia hadn't been spared the ravages of the War, but there, he didn't need to constantly be on alert. There were safer planets than his homeworld in the galaxy, but something about home had the ability to whitewash such details.

"Maxxus!"

He turned away from the mountains in the distance to his pilot, all the while shielding his one good eye from the sun. As Vox jogged up to him, Maxxus tilted his head in a silent query.

"We're done here," Vox said, voice muffled. He'd wrapped cloth protectively around his head against the sandy winds, save a slit for his eyes. "All cargo offloaded and payment's with the old man. We just gotta wait for the techs to finish refuelling the Shandy and we're good to fly."

"Good," Maxxus rumbled. They were on good time: by his calculations, they could return to Coruscant within a month. "I don't want to remain here a moment longer than necessary."

Vox laughed. "I'm no fan of the weather too, boss. My hair's suffering. But ah, you sure you don't want to tune up the ship while we're here? Never know what might happen after we leave Mantellian space. Shandy's barely holding together as it is. Mhaila's words, not mine."

It wasn't like Vox to be nervous. Maxxus peered at him, wondering if there was something behind such doubt.

Vox didn't fidget. He merely shrugged. "Nothing by it, boss. Just thinking about how the galaxy's going to poodoo with the Sith and Republic shredding into each other like rancors and all. The techs here can't really be that bad, can they?"

"They are." Almost on cue, a clang sounded on the other side of the docking bay. A slew of curses followed, preceding a shrill  _what did you do to my hyperdrive?_

"Fine, they hold their hydrospanners like  _beskads_ ," Vox sighed, watching that group of techies yelling back at the ship's captain. "But-"

_Boom._

The docking bay rocked, sending both scrambling into a crouch - but Maxxus instinctively threw himself over the smaller human.

When the ground stopped shuddering, his back didn't sting nor burn; only seared metal filled his nostrils. So Maxxus stood, pulling Vox up with him by the arm. Dusted the young man's navy-blue vest for good measure and wrapped his fallen face cover round his neck like a scarf too, when he noticed Vox's eyes were still bugged out from the shock. Wide open, but unseeing. Sometimes, the flashbacks took time to process, so Maxxus allowed Vox that time - all the while holding him close in a one-armed hug. Iridonians were bigger and bulkier than humans in general, yet Vox felt tiny in his embrace.

The Stereb cities burned brighter than this when the Mandalorian bombs fell, and Vox still grappled with the guilt four years on.

"Okay?" Maxxus patted Vox's bare arm. More techs scurried about in the docking bay, pushing carts and more towards the blast site. That ship...didn't look great with a bantha-sized hole in its side. Dry Mantellian air and the sand had probably sparked the explosion.

"Yeah.  _Vor'e_." Vox blinked away the fog in his eyes, shrugging out of Maxxus' grip. "I'm fine. It's the usual. Just takes time to get over it, is all." He rolled his shoulders and jogged on his feet for a bit - but Maxxus saw how his shoulders remained tense. Eyes closed, he breathed through his nose, before conceding. "Okay, point taken. To Taris for repairs then."

Maxxus hummed softly, hoping it sounded comforting to the younger man. It always took time.

"Maxxus!" A voice boomed behind them.

They turned. Giles stood coughing on the top of the Shandy's open boarding ramp, his glasses askew.

Vox flashed his charming grin. "We're fine, Fuzzball."

"Thank the stars. Mhaila and me are. Bit shaken by the blast, but we'll be alright."

That wasn't the entire crew, Maxxus realised. "Where's Ryder?"

To Maxxus' amusement, Vox blanched. "Shavit."

"The girl disappeared again? I thought she was with you two." Giles had caught up to them, puffing from the exertion. Then, his gaze snagged on the neighbouring ship, where he took one long look at it. "What in the blazes..." he trailed off, distracted, before wiping his glasses with a furry finger. And began muttering to himself.

"Yeah." Ignoring Giles, Vox sighed. He folded his arms. "Sometimes I wished she'd let someone know before she does her-" Vox gestured wildly, twirling his hands "-disappearing thing. What could've possibly set her off?"

"Well, I certainly remember talking about my grandchildren during the short jump here." Giles put on a thoughtful look. "Actually, that's all I remember. Strange. I need to keep up with my nutrient supplements." At that, he began patting his pockets in search of that.

"Family?" Vox shrugged. "Naw, don't think so. That isn't enough to pierce her baradium-proof composure. Cool like a dead star, her. Maybe even a planet. Who knows?"

"Easy, Vox." Outside, Maxxus was as expressive as durasteel. Inside, he sighed. Vox, ever the optimist. "She'll return. She always does."

He wasn't sure if the crew noticed, but there were only two places where Ryder behaved oddly.

Ord Mantell, and any planet with an established Jedi presence.

* * *

In the midst of unloading, she slipped away; body flattened against stacks of kolto and blaster packs to stay unseen.

It wasn't that she was constrained by crew protocols regarding movement planetside. Maxxus was fairer a captain she'd met in her years as a smuggler. Plus, he trusted her - as much as the crew trusted her. With their lives.

No, she simply wanted to disappear for a while.

Why was she so secretive? She trusted them. She could  _rely_  on them. For emotional support, or even someone to help dispose of bodies if the need arose - no questions asked.

Yet.

Wolport held a certain charm for her. Cantinas and open-air markets sprung up around the spaceport, and it was in one such market where she found herself meandering through; her hands stuffed into her pockets, and a scarf pulled up till the bridge of her nose. She'd considered a hood too, just to hide the telling scar cutting across her face, but she realised how paranoid that would be. No one would recognise her - not when she'd snipped her hair, completely changed how she walked,  _and_  kriffed off to the literal ass-ends of the galaxy. Too bad Giles couldn't help talk her through her choices this time - she didn't want to tip him off.

All that to make her nobody. Overlooked by the merchants and the shoppers milling about in the hive of activity of the market, and maybe the occasional Republic buckethead patrolling the streets. All she needed was to push through the crowd to her destination; to the one person she didn't want to be overlooked by.

When the hubbub of the market eased into background noise in her ears, she arrived at the door; a faded gray, the colour clearly having weathered the seasons.

She checked the scrap of scribbled-on flimsi in her hands, just to reassure herself that this was the place. The place she'd spent years chasing, through backwater cantinas and pirate-infested space for leads.

She stuffed the flimsi back in her pocket. Of course this was the right door; she had a solid sense of direction. So she raised a curled hand to knock-

The door slid open.

She darted her gaze through the dark entrance while sliding a hand to her shoulder holster, finger curling around the trigger guard of her blaster. "Can I come in?"

A Wookiee howl sounded.  **Can you?**

Thank the Force she had her translator on - her Shyriiwook was basic at best.

Dropping her hand, Ryder resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "If a sniper doesn't take me out when I walk in, sure." Which she did, with long strides into a darkened house, without waiting for a reply.

Immediately, the heavy aroma of wood hit Ryder; one that loosened her tensed muscles. She felt herself unwind, but not completely - torn between yearning to let go and keeping her guard up.

Ryder settled for the easier option: the latter.

 **Interesting choice of words**. The voice floated over from Ryder's right. When she turned, she stood an arm's length from a Wookiee a full head taller than her, even if they were still seated by a table. Gray-furred, shaggy mane braided into multiple strands with beads by the side - she was in the presence of an elder. That made her pause, briefly enough to reconsider her manners. _Stang_ , being unable to consciously relax was a fragging mess.

"Apologies for the barb," Ryder said, lowering her head slightly as she pulled her scarf down to her neck. "I wasn't thinking when I said that."

 **At my age, nothing much fazes me. Unless you infuriate me.**  The Wookiee gestured at the crates and chairs around.  **Sit. Make yourself comfortable**

Like any Mantellian dwelling, furnishings were sparse. Beyond the mellow, earthy colours of the interior, a nice change from gray bulkheads and the black maw od space, the walls and floors of this one-floor hut were covered by carpets and drapes. Cozy, but not opulent.

After considering, Ryder dragged a crate over and sat on it.

**What brings you here, of all places? Yours is a face unrecognisable to me.**

"I'm looking for information. Specifically, on those who lived here." Ryder slipped a hand into her shirt and pulled out her necklace. She held it out to the Wookiee, her thumb cresting the curve of the savrip tooth; the texture of bone cold to her skin. "Recognise this?"

The Wookiee's beady eyes narrowed as they held the tooth, but it wasn't out of recognition. Or maybe, Ryder couldn't read those eyes. She used to be able to, and that thought made her chest twinge.

**Why ask me, someone from Ord Mantell? This necklace could have been a trinket from anywhere.**

Something in the Wookiee's tone irked Ryder; she couldn't identify what. Dismissal? "Because something about here makes my spine tingle, and I can't shake off the feeling it's important somehow." Even after she'd been cut off from the Force. "It's- it's complicated."

 **May I ask something?**  When Ryder nodded, they continued.  **What does it matter to you, off-worlder, that Ord Mantell calls out to you?**

"I-" Family. Belonging. Home.  _Safe._  The Order had been her orbit, her entire identity - and years on, she still craved a touchstone to cling to.

Because otherwise, she'd be adrift. And terrifyingly alone.

Ryder swallowed. Her fingers found the loops on her belt, and she started fiddling with them. "I don't know. I just- felt like I needed to."

 **Because the answers you seek might not be what you expect.**  The Wookiee slipped the necklace back inside Ryder's shirt, far gentler she'd thought a Wookiee capable of. And for a moment, they pressed a paw on the savrip tooth through the fabric.  **It might not grant you those that you seek. I watch you and I see what you are, what you used to be. And what I have to say will not ease your heart.**

Anger flashed through Ryder-  _searing_ , demanding to be let loose with a snide comment, but Ryder caught herself. She wasn't truly furious - irked somewhat by the Wookiee elder's roundabout speech and presumption to know herself better than herself, but that wasn't it. What was, was the familiar wave of despair; lurking under the fury, settling even in the marrow of her bones. That there was never a purpose to anything.

Anger had always been a shield.

"I just- I just want to belong somewhere." Ryder bit the inside of her cheek. Her fingers now tugged her belt loops, testing how far they could stretch without ripping. On impulse, she inhaled the fragrance permeating the air, and her nerves settled. She was glad she did. "I want answers."

The Wookiee said nothing, only watched her with that unnerving, intense gaze; as if able to peer past Ryder's self. Despite her clothes and her layered illusions of her appearance, it felt like she was back in the Council Chamber - lightsabers in hand, robes swirling, and gazes of disappointment crushing her into insignificant space dust.

**They loved you. And they let you go.**

Ryder leaned in, trembling fists stuffed into her pockets. Could they-? "Where are they?

Hope bloomed in her chest; a traitorous, liberating feeling. The last time this happened...her apprentice died by Revan's hand.

She gripped her bracelet, the bracelet of cord the colour of her eyes. A memento of a dead girl she loved more than life itself.

_Dana._

**Somewhere you cannot reach.**  The Wookiee pulled back with a mournful growl.  **They're dead.**

 _They're dead._  Ryder sucked in a breath, as if that could fill the gaping void crushing her chest.  _They're all dead. Gone._

Names flitted by in the back of her mind. Lennox, Alek, Dana, Kavar, Zhar... the prelude to a longer list.

_I'm alone._

Ryder's lips cracked open unbidden. "How?"

 **Does it matter? Even if they still lived, they aren't your family. They created you. But they didn't raise you.**  At silence, the Wookiee banged a fist on the table, starling Ryder.  **Listen, exiled one. The past doesn't hold answers. It only holds suffering. Look forward and you'll free yourself.**

Ryder glared.  _Just who in the nine Corellian hells are you to tell me that,_  she yearned to bite off, but she couldn't bring herself to. Somewhere, somehow,  _unbelievably_ , those words resonated with her.

Her expression softened, her fists uncurled. "Thanks," she offered instead.

But her back remained stiff. Her fury simmered beneath, just as it had when the Council cast her away, cast  _them_  away for not allowing lives to be needlessly swallowed by the insatiable hunger of Mandalorian conquest.

_Revan did this to me._

_Forgiveness is the least they deserve._

* * *

She hadn't planned on meeting anyone on her way back, but there wasn't mistaking the crown of head-horns and the eye-patch of a certain Iridonian loitering by the spaceport entrance.

Ryder didn't change her footing, only shifted her steps to hug the walls to stand right beside him; cleanly slipping out from the crowd.

How did Maxxus know she'd be coming through here? "Captain?"

Maxxus didn't move, still leaning against the wall with arms crossed. His eyes wandered, but remained alert. "Ryder?"

"Thought you'd be doing pre-flight prep instead of standing here."

"I was. But not anymore."

"Right." Ryder raised a brow, but said nothing. Maxxus was being his cheery, cryptic self. "You coming?"

No nods, nor words. Just movement: Maxxus falling into step beside Ryder as they walked back to the Shandy in silence. It was a kriffing miracle that Maxxus didn't initiate small talk despite the suspicious conditions of how they met, so Ryder spent the time dwelling on the Wookiee's words. On family, lost and found.

Why didn't she want them to know?

She'd been staring at Maxxus' back for a while before she caught herself.

She  _didn't_  have a reason. Just instinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beskar - mandalorian saber, usually made of durasteel or mandalorian iron (beskad)  
> vor'e - "thanks"


	4. Maybe It Was A Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wonder what happens on Taris in 3956 BBY...

"What d'you  _mean_  we can't leave?"

If Giles wasn't on the verge of ripping out his fur before with his bare hands, he was now.

Ryder grabbed the Bothan's shoulders before he launched himself into the poor dock officer. "Giles," she warned, eyes flashing.

It didn't work - he still squirmed under her vice. "But this is atrocious! They can't j-"

Leaving the rest of the crew to calm down Giles, Maxxus wrapped an arm around dock officer's shoulders and led them aside; closer to the edge of the landing pad.

Tarisian port authorities weren't known as screw-ups in his years of flying, so Maxxus was certain something  _else_  was happening. "Mind explaining yourself?"

"Captain, trust me when I say there's no point resisting. Things have changed." The officer straightened and dusted down their crisp uniform; the need for pressed dressing  _in the Lower City_  something Maxxus found as pretentious as the skewed class hierarchy the Tarisian nobles insisted on perpetuating. But given galactic economics, why wouldn't they institutionalise such an exploitative relationship? "If the Sith decreed as such, you'd do well to fall in line."

_Ah._  Maxxus blinked as his chest went cold; despite his layers of a jacket over a woven shirt. He hadn't wanted to suspect that at first. Flying past the walkways of the Upper City, then wandering those of the Middle City, he'd seen familiar chrome armour infesting wherever he went. And with that, the arrests, the brutality, and the callousness he'd expect from the Sith.

It made his hand twitch to his blaster - if only.

The question that still bugged him was: how willingly were the Tarisian elites and their goons via the arms of Tarisian governance working with the Sith?

Maxxus eyed the officer, noting the fixed set of their jaw. They wouldn't budge; certain their position gave them authority. Even in a City where actions of the Government were seen as attempts to dominate, rather than help uphold a modicum of order - not that Maxxus didn't sympathise with the alien denizens of Taris. "Understood. Thank you for clarifying."

They nodded. "If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving. Your papers are in order, so I trust you or your crew won't jeopardise that by doing something foolish?"

"Of course." Maxxus looked them straight in the eye.

They flinched at his one-eyed gaze.

When Maxxus turned back to the Shandy, his crew weren't standing around the boarding ramp. Instead, he found them in the Shandy's living area whittling away time with their respective idiosyncracies - Giles wearing holes into the bulkhead from pacing and Mhaila fiddling with a circuit board, while Vox was passed out on the couch with his mouth agape. Ryder sat beside him and acted the complete opposite; leaning back with arms crossed, but eyes ever-watching.

So of course it'd be Ryder who spotted him first. "Officer on deck," she barked as she straightened, drawing chuckles from Mhaila. Vox jerked awake and almost fell off the couch.

Old Navy habits, Maxxus mused with a smile. Definitely because Ryder wanted to startle her co-pilot - he'd known her to flout any possible conceivable protocol that didn't make sense to her. Like Coruscant docking procedures. 

"News, Maxxus?" Giles flocked straight for him. "Can you finally be the one to tell us all what's going on?"

"We can't leave," Maxxus declared to a chorus of groans. Preambles or the pointless rambling Vox favoured was wasted time, Maxxus always believed. "The Sith ordered the blockade. Tarisian Dock Authority will enforce it. Possibly with Sith firepower."

"They're searching for something. Or someone," Ryder shrugged, ruffling her short hair. Like this was something she'd expected. "And they haven't found it."

"It has to do with the Endar Spire." Mhaila plonked herself beside the pilot. "This one's been hearing about bounties for Republic soldiers circulating in the Lower City gangs."

"Gangs?" Giles jerked to her, aghast. "Just  _how_  did you find out, pup?"

Ryder cut Mhaila off before she could answer. "She was with me. Hopping cantinas. Watching Pazaak matches." Then, Ryder grinned, showing teeth. Vox chortled. "Really."

"Regardless," Maxxus raised his voice and all chatter ceased. "We're grounded. With ale and weapons in our hold. They need to go places and I don't want to lose credits."

Not exactly, because Talwain Dispatch wasn't about profits, but why vocalise it? They knew full well what the Sith were capable of. It showed, in how they inevitably fell to silence, punctuated onto by the humming of the ship.

Giles wiped his glasses with his shirt. "So what are we going to do?"

"Find a way to beat the blockade, obviously." Vox looked at everyone for confirmation, before settling on Maxxus with a hopeful expression. How Mandalorian of him, Maxxus noted absently; never conceding without a fight. "Right?"

Maxxus nodded.

When the crew cheered, pride bloomed in Maxxus's chest. Even when faced with insurmountable odds, these individuals around him never wavered. He'd reviewed their employee profiles, watched their mannerisms and their words from their time together - undoubtedly, each of them had their lasting struggles from the War and beyond. But being here, running blockades and Sith ships with priceless cargo onboard for the war effort, he'd never known a crew so brave.

Brave people resisted even when reason demanded submission, and that was why Maxxus sent off an encrypted message to a Republic Intelligence cell stationed in Taris.

He'd last spoke to their commanding officer years ago, when the War was wrapping up with the Mandalorians fleeing into deep space after Jaga's Cluster. After Malachor, there was only utter radio silence from them. Hell if he knew this wing had been disbanded.

But they were their best chance of beating the Sith blockade.

* * *

Later on, when the Shandy's interiors quietened to its comforting rumbling, he found her dangling from a pull-up bar jammed between the doorframe of the portside dormitory.

Pull and rest, pull and rest; Ryder did her pull-ups in silence save the occasional huff of effort, chest binder damp with sweat and back muscles flexing from effort. With the amount of time she and Vox spent working out, it was like they were perpetually competing for the honour of having the biggest biceps.

Not that Maxxus minded. A more physically intimidating crew meant the lesser likelihood of being raided by pirates or jealous business competitors like the  _Exchange_ , but Maxxus didn't consider organised criminals competitors. Otherwise, hopefully having someone else carry out ship-sweeping duties upon landing for once. Necessary work, but tedious.

His gaze snagged on the hair-thin line of black ink tattooed around the circumference of Ryder's forearm. Of the pair, he'd expected  _Vox_  to have such inclinations, but the galaxy held surprises for him yet. "So, whose arms are bigger this week?"

"Vox. But I pulled more." She landed on the balls of her feet, then rolled her shoulders experimentally; popping a joint in the process. "Consider it an impasse."

"Regardless, it's commendable. Both of you. I'm certain committing to such a goal isn't easy."

"Appreciated." Ryder smiled; a rare move considering her recent moods. But it vanished as soon as Maxxus blinked; like a shutter falling over her emotions. "You wanted to ask me something?"

Maxxus watched her dry off with a towel and pull on a shirt, while considering his next words. Of course Ryder would've guessed his intentions; she was perceptive. Uncannily so. But Maxxus doubted she really knew how much he'd pieced together her history - with clues from her mannerisms, speech, and skills.

But it was a secret he'd keep. "Forgive me for intruding, but I noticed your low moods these few days. Is everything alright?"

"Are you asking as my captain or as a friend?" Ryder's answer was swift. Almost defensive. The reply of someone who jealously guarded their emotions; as if confiding in someone allowed them power to utterly crush them.

"Does it matter?" Maxxus answered, completely unfazed. He'd do it regardless.

A pause.

"I'm fine," Ryder pursed her lips, watching Maxxus like a mynock. "Aren't I always?"

"If you were a droid, yes."

Ryder cut such a forlorn figure sitting on her bunk, it reminded Maxxus of those he used to know; those he used to lead as a captain during the War. Younglings, with a cause in their hearts, and scars on their skin. Sometimes, it was more than bones they'd lose in the name of serving.

He crouched in front of Ryder till he was eye-level with her, only placing his gloved hands on both her shoulders when she nodded her consent.

When her brown irises matched his, he spoke. "I know you have your secrets, and you keep them close. I respect that. However, I merely wished to remind you - we're crew. We're family. We have each other's backs, even before you ask for it."

"I-" Ryder flinched, so Maxxus released her. "I know that. I just… some things I've experienced- I don't think I can find the words for it. But it'll still kark me up."

_Fire. The stench of burnt flesh. Yet, the slimy wetness. Dampness. Of rain peppering his skin from Dxun's darkened sky like the sick ending note to the aftermath of battle._

_He runs a finger down his cheek. Dampness. Stickiness. But he hadn't been caught in the blast._

_He feels a sticky wetness on his skin. He stares at his finger._

_Blood._

Maxxus blinked, feeling himself return to the moment. "They will," he rumbled. "And that's alright."

He clapped her shoulder once again, then stood to leave. Cloth rustled behind him.

"Maxxus." He stopped on the room's threshold and looked over his shoulder. Ryder still looked miserable, this time curled on her bunk, but at least there was a half-smirk on her face. "Thanks. For the reminder."

He returned the grin. "Just being captain-ly. Go get your rest."

Never alone, never again, Maxxus reminded himself. They had their struggles, but they didn't have to struggle alone.

* * *

When his commlink beeped with an encrypted reply, his lips widened in a smile.


End file.
